Decision
by magzloc
Summary: The 17 year old girl, Elizabeth stands before a choice: life or death? But which is which? This is a story of her existance; of the choices she makes and the ones that are made for her. This is set before Bella showed up.
1. Decision

_Death. I'm sure that's what I want, what I need. So, why is it that hard to make the choice: life or death? But then, which is which?_

That's what she was thinking. And not for the first time. She's had that on mind for days, which slowly stretched into weeks and finally, months. Could it really be that hard to choose? She had nothing to lose. Her parents were divorced - father in jail, mother, if you could call it that, couldn't care less about such a huge responsibility, burden - a daughter. Black haired and eyed, she didn't stand out in school, not at all. Actually, there wasn't anyone in the world who cared about her, that was a fact, she was more than positive that she couldn't call anyone "friend". Not that she knew the term well enough to be able to tell, when such a person appeared in her life. So what was it, that kept her alive, kept the indecision inside her, an unbearable feeling. Deep inside, she knew what it was, that she wouldn't want to lose, that she will think about, when taking her last breath, when she'll make the decision - and she knew she would; and what she'd miss, when life was gone, something that she didn't even have.

Edward.

That was the only thing that mattered in her life. Yes, it is stupid and no, he doesn't know that she exists, but it is the one thing that matters in her life, that she cares about. But, if she doesn't know him, doesn't have him, then, really, what is there to lose?

She would go to her favourite place, where she went to relax, to think, and she would end her road there. Not thinking about her pain, her desires. Just being relieved that it would finally end; that this thing, which she was unporposefully trapped inside, would finally let her go. This stupid thing called life. There can't be anything worse than life, than the pain it caused her. She would welcome the other option with open arms, reaching out for it with relief.

Death.

_Death_.

Yes, that was the answer, her final word, her decision. After all, you can't lose what you never had. It had to be a great feeling, being free, letting go of yourself, of all the illusions. Because really, what was reality? And it will be done with quickly, with no goodbyes - those were useless; who would she say goodbye to, anyway? No second thoughts, in case she'll change her mind. Again. Midnight seemed just right. The sound of the word felt just right. That means there only is a couple of hours.

_I will go, now._


	2. Imagination

Midnight. Darkness. The only visible thing is a single mountain in this empty, timeless place. Up, on the very top of it, amongst the dence, grey fog stands a girl of a decieving beauty she had no idea she had. Her almost paper white skin contrasted with the eyes and hair, both raven black. Her long hair was being pulled, tugged upon and tangled by sharp, yet delicate, invisible hands. Her dark cloak stretched to the ground, dancing around her feet. Her eyes calm, almost unnaturally so, went blank and expressionless, as her ghostly pale figers closed around a silver, shining dagger. This was the end of her road...

The last thing she felt, were cold, strong arms around her. The last thing she heard was the smooth, velvet. Edward was her last memory. _I'm just imagining it._ She thought. She was bleeding, bleeding hard, the blood was everywhere, gushing out of her stomach, where the dagger was still sticking out, her trembling hands holding it in place. The blood stained the black cloak, the smell was sickening.

She didn't feel the pain, she ignored it, didn't let it register in her brain. She could sence death everyehre, coming at her from all directions. But nobody cares, anyway. And yet, she could still feel those strong, icy, yet delicate arms moving around her in desperation, the marble hands closed around her own ones, loosened her grip on the dagger and took it out of her stomach, throwing it carelessly to the grass surrounding her. She wanted to remember Edward, even if the last thing she had to remember was the illusion, which her imagination made. But then, why did he feel so real? And most importantly of all, why was she not dead yet? She felt her imagined copy of Edward tough his lips, gently, to her throat. And then she felt it. Then the pain came to her. But strangely enough, it didn't come from the wound she caused herself, but from her neck, where Edwards lips left her skin. Her body was burning.

_Thank you, _she thought._ Thank you for being here, making me realise the pain of death and quickening the coming of the end of this. _

She could feel the blood inside her veins pulse, painfully, and with each beat of her heart, the fire spread, slowly and with incredible pain, thrpughout her body. It was so slow, why couldn't it just end? She gave up on screaming in pain, she was so tired and there was no point, anyway.

She focused on her last feeling, what she will remember best from this, so called life. It wasn't Edward she will remember, it'll be the pain. The feeling was so strong, she couldn't help it - she passed out. But it wasn't death, she was still breathing; just unconciousness. Her illusion didn't seem to realise that.

"No, Bess, no! Don't die, don't leave!"

She smiled and he seemed to realise that. Not giving up hope, he took her in his marble arms and carried somewhere, she couldn't be sure of where.

_This is as good as illusions go_, she thought. Again, her conciousness was gone. She was falling in and out of it. But this time, she, herself was sure it was death. Her imagined saviour thought differently. He wasn't going to give up hope that she could be saved. Even though she couldn't be. And yes, it had to be her imagination, so strong, so practiced, it seemed like realiity. Because the real Edward wouldn't care to save her. He wouldn't know where to find he, even if he'd care.

"Liz, stay with me! Please, look at me, Bess, stay here!" the velvet textured voice called.

And she wanted so badly to believe that it was really him, that he'd come to save her, like a prince from a fairy tale. But happy endings don't happen in real life. Her imagination was going into overdrive, probably trying to make up for the time it would lose. Her heart was doing the opposite: it was slowing down more and more within every second.

The Edward she imagined carried her down the mountain and, in what seemed like seconds, even in her imagination, arrived some place warm and a little stuffy. If she hadn't been imagining it, she'd think he carried her home; but where was home? She'd think that he will finally become aware of her, make it all okay, and when she was well again, start going out, love her, like she loved him.

But that wasn't going to happen. She was dying, and her imagination was ridiculously undisciplined.

_Pathetic. _She thought to herself._ How could any part of me believe that Edward would care? He wouldn't. No one would. No one does._ And with that thought, she took her last breath. Her very last, gasping, painful breath.


	3. Edward

"Bess. Hey, Bessie! Wake up, Bess, are you all right?" She heard a silky textured voice sweetly and gently say as she opened her eyes. When she did, what she saw, wasn't like anything she ever saw before, in her entire life. She was looking at a room, which wasn't anything extraordinary, as she usually woke up seeing her bedroom. This room, she didn't recognize, though. The walls were a sort of light honey color. The furniture, which looked quite expensive, was all a lightish shade of brown, kind of old-fashioned and there didn't seem to be much of it: a large bookcase, full of books of many shapes and sizes, a wardrobe with huge doors and three drawers, a little bedside-table with a couple drawers, a desk, a low, but long, see-through coffee table and a black sofa. Also, the furniture was spaced out, so that the room seemed much bigger than it actually was. There wasn't a bed in this room, so it must have been a living room, even though it looked more like a bedroom, with the wardrobe and the stack of CD's by the radio in the corner. The floor was wooden, but mostly covered with a soft, fluffy, honey-colored rug. The room was lightly lit, the light coming from upside facing standing lamps in the corners. She was lying on her back, on a leather sofa, and was covered with a thin, soft blanket. It wasn't the actual room that made such a big impression on her; it was the way she saw it. It wasn't like she usually saw things. Her eyes didn't work that well; no human eyes did. All the colors were so clear and bright and the light breeze coming from a slightly opened window seemed _visible_ to her. She also realized that she felt cold, despite the warm temperature of the room and the soft blanket covering her. She was sensitive to every movement, every sound and every touch. She felt alert and so... _alive_. Then, when she thought that she couldn't be anymore surprised by the strangeness of this all, she stopped exploring the room with her sight and looked up, to where the sweet voice came from.

The view took her breath away. It was Edward, sitting on the edge of the sofa she was lying on, but he looked so much different than she remembered him. He looked so much better. His velvety, copper-brown hair glistened in the sun's rays and danced in the delicate wind. His eyes seemed to be burning with care, serenity and love and looked like liquid amber, and around them were purply-black circles, like he didn't get enough sleep (those, he always had and were the only flaw in his perfect face features), standing out against his literally paper white skin. His sharp, square cheekbones seemed to highlight and bring out his beauty. His full, pinkish lips were curved in a crooked smile, so breathtaking, and were just asking to be kissed. Most of all, what she never realized before, he seemed to be… sparkling? The sunlight seemed to collide with his ghost white skin and make it seem like it was glittering. That was something she never saw before. But then she hasn't seen much sun recently, as it _always_ rained here and she was quite tired, so she might just be imagining it or it might be a trick of light.

When she finally stopped taking in this exquisite view, she managed to say something.

"Wh-where am I? How long have I been sleeping? Why are _you_ here?" Her eyes popped out, if they weren't already out, at the sound of her voice. Again, it was different. It sounded more beautiful, more soft and velvety, more like Edward's, only more female. If her lips weren't moving at the same time she heard that voice and if Edward wasn't the only person in the room, apart from her, she would have been sure it wasn't her speaking.

"You want me to leave?" His voice, more perfect than she remembered it, sounded as if he was holding up a smile or even a giggle.

"No!" He smiled widely at her reaction and humor danced in his eyes. "It's just that we don't really know each other and... you never really new I existed... And anyway, you didn't answer any of my questions." She found herself feeling more awkward than she should be, in his presence and more embarrassed than needed at her response to his question. But she found that she had no problems in talking so honestly of her feelings and thoughts.

"Well, maybe it's time we new each other, then. And I new you existed since the first time I saw in school." He smiled again at her embarrassed expression and even wider, when she gathered herself and gave him a strict eye, wordlessly demanding answers. "You are in the Cullen's house, my house, and more precisely, in my bedroom. You have been unconscious for exactly three and a half days. I am here... well, it's my bedroom, that's why I'm here. Any more questions needing answering, miss?" The sarcasm in his voice, when he said the last sentence was unmistakable for anything else. And the playful glint in his eye slightly annoyed her. She was too shocked by all this too realize that if it was a bedroom, it was missing a bed.

"Of course. Are you glittering, or is it just me?"

"Except for that one." He gave her the crooked smile, which had to be enough for her, as she couldn't get a proper answer.

"You said 'any'. And yes, there's loads. For example, why am I in your bedroom and why are you suddenly aware of my presence and talking to me?"

A low chuckle escaped his throat. "I told you, I have always been aware of you, even if I wasn't showing the slightest shadow of interest in you. See, I'm a very good actor. I am talking to you because you're in my bedroom, so I don't really have a choice now, because I am _very_ interested in you and because I think it's about time to do so. You are in my room because it was me to save you and offer you my couch to rest on."

"Hold on. I was on that mountain, trying to kill myself and then, when I stabbed myself, I died, right? So this is heaven? I'm not good enough for heaven." It felt strangely easy to talk about her interrupted suicidal attempt.

Again, he chuckled. "Yes, you did stab yourself on that mountain, but with the other stuff, your nowhere _near_ reality. After you stabbed yourself I came and, seeing there was no chance for you to live, I- No, your not ready for the rest yet. I promise I'll tell you, but later. But I carried you here and saved you, with slight help from Carlisle."

"OK, so you're not keen on telling me all the stuff that's bugging me most and my curiosity is gonna kill me. Whenever I imagined us talking, it seemed to be easier. But, wait, I wasn't dreaming, when I heard your voice there? You just appeared out of nowhere and saved me? What about that fire I felt burning in my veins, when you touched my throat? How did you know I'd be there and how did you know to save me? Why did you _care_ to save me? Why don't I have a wound? Why am I sleeping for three days?"

"Slow down on the questions. Everything in its own time. I can't tell you everything at once because you'll think I'm completely mental and you have to figure some things out for yourself, possibly with some of my help. I can tell you now that I cared for you and was interested in you since the first time I saw you. I know that you like me. A lot. And so do I. So, you think, maybe we could be friends? Of course, then, I'll tell you everything you want… in its own time."

"Oh, God, this is too much already. Yes, of course we can be friends. That's what I've been dreaming of for the last... well, however long I've known you" She didn't know where the courage for such honesty came from and she didn't want to think about it, afraid that it might disappear.

"Great. So, you want to lie down a little more and talk or maybe go downstairs and meet my family?"

"Maybe talk, for now. I'm not really quite ready or strong enough to move yet."

"Oh, you're stronger than you can imagine..." He murmured so quietly, and yet, she could hear him perfectly well. "Want to try and stand up?" He stood up himself, the movement so graceful and gentle, yet so quick, it was impossible not to be amazed, and offered one, pale hand to help her stand.

When she took his hand, a warm shiver spread across her body, from where their skin touched, right down to her toes, despite the cold temperature of Edward's hand. She stood up, but discovered she didn't need his hand, at all, to help her, however it proved useful, when she wobbled, losing her balance because of the swiftness and speed of her movement.

"Hey, careful there." His sweet voice sounded right by her ear, when he caught her. Again, a shiver ran across her body, realizing how close he was and how comfortable she felt in his strong, cold and yet gentle and delicate arms. She never knew before, so it dazzled her even more, how incredibly good he smelled. She felt herself blush and moved away. Again, with unexpected swiftness and gracefulness. It felt to her almost like flying. Nothing close to how she moved before. Edward smiled mysteriously and walked toward her, but kept some more space between them. She sat down again, being a little afraid of her own body and how different everything felt. Edward took the blanket, folded it up and put it to the side, sitting next to her on the sofa.

„So," he started saying, as if nothing had happened „how are you feeling?"

„Right now, or overall? Physically or mentally?"

„Both and both."

„Hmmm… a little embarrassed and intimidated by you, but my physical condition's fine, doctor" she managed to joke and smile, paying him back for the 'miss'. „although the way I move is a little funny. Different, than before. Do you know anything about that?"

„I intimidate you? Hmm… I might know something and I might not. Even if I do, I won't tell you."

„What's with all the mysteriousness, huh?" She was quite frustrated with it, now. Although, before this accident, she would probably started arguing with him, to get answers. Now, she had a little more patience.

„Nothing. I just can't tell you everything now, you'll run out of questions." He smiled, the most perfect smile, when he saw the glint in her eye, saying „You really think _I_ will run out of questions?". „OK, so you probably won't. But I'm still not telling you everything now, whether you like that or not."

„Fine. What questions _can_ you answer now?"

„I dunno. Try me."

„OK. If this is your bedroom, then why isn't there a bed here?"

"Bess, do you _have_ to keep asking questions I don't want to answer yet?"

"It's your fault. You're not wanting to answer. Why do you find me so amusing?" He chuckled. "See, you find everything that I do or say, amazingly funny. Why?"

"I don't find you funny. I laugh and smile because I find you sweet and your reactions, honesty and clumsiness are quite amusing, sometimes." He answered, smiling. She felt herself blush and looked down. He laughed again. "Every time I'm honest with you, you get embarrassed, but when I'm not, you want me to be. So which one is it?"

"I want you to be honest and ignore my reactions."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And stop calling me random names like that."

"Your wish is my command."

She was quite angry with his teasing tone of voice, but it was impossible to be very angry with him for longer than a few seconds. He was just so breathtaking, and perfect, and incredibly sweet and caring, and God, he was _hot_. So instead of making an angry face, she smiled. She wanted him to like her and as much as she liked him, even though she knew it was impossible.

"I changed my mind, I want to go meet your family. I won't get any answers from you, anyway."

He offered her his hand, but she pretended she didn't see it. She loved him so much, but she couldn't believe he liked her. She wanted to make sure he _really_ did, before she'll start treating him as more than a friend. And she wanted to get to know him more, first. What if he turns out that he's a dumb bastard, not worth anything?

But no, Edward couldn't. He was too perfect. She knew that when she'll know him better, she'll only love him more. She could only hope he felt similar about her.

She stood up, still not used to the weird way her body was functioning, but not loosing balance again, and followed Edward out of the room.


End file.
